I’d pushed my Sunday night call back a few hours so that I could still fit it in after dinner with Miles and his parents. For some reason, it had taken me less time to prepare than normal. Maybe it was because I was acutely aware that once Miles arrived, work time was over. Even with that weighing on me, or perhaps because of it, I found myself twiddling my thumbs, waiting for Miles to arrive. I busied myself, searching the internet for bars and cafes near my condo. I lived fairly close to downtown, so the number of choices was nearly overwhelming. I supposed we could just take the elevator down and then walk down the street, but then I wouldn’t have had anything to do until Miles arrived.

I wasn’t used to this feeling of expectation. I knew what I wanted, I knew what I could do, I did it, I got it, done. I hadn’t waited on anything or anyone since I left school behind me, especially someone who made my heart skip beats while racing like a cheetah after an antelope.

I checked my phone for about the thirty seventh time to make sure I’d sent Miles the correct address when a knock sounded on my door, making me jump. I forced myself to walk calmly to the door, stopping to check my hair on the way. Suddenly nervous, I checked my breath with a cupped hand and a huff. Minty. Not that I would get that close to Miles, but…

Miles stood at my door looking… exquisite. The deep purple of his shirt made his eyes look more green than ever. My eyes kept drifting to his kissable lips, swollen from nervous bites. That hadn’t changed. I remembered exactly how soft and warm those lips were, how I had been able to steal his breath away…

Meeting at my house was seeming like less of a good idea by the second, but Miles pushed passed me, raising a bottle of wine in his hands. “Pregame?”

“Say what?”

“I took a taxi over so we wouldn’t have to worry about cars. If you can taxi there and back, we can have a few drinks before meeting my parents.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Come one, Parker. You remember what an awful liar I am sober. A couple glasses of wine, and I’ll ace this dinner, no problem. Then it’s freedom for you and free sailing for me.”

If I’d been wondering if Miles had started “pregaming” before he arrived, I had little question as he tripped on my completely flat and clear floor.

“Whoops,” he giggled.

I hurried behind him and plucked the wine out of his hands. “You are absolutely right about your ability to lie, but let’s keep you at an acceptably tipsy level, okay? I think you’ve had enough for a little while.”

Miles collapsed on a bar stool without argument. “Fair enough.” He sighed, looking around my apartment. “How do you do it, Parker?”

“Do what?” I asked, setting the wine in an empty spot on my wine rack.

“Live so… easily. Is it because you’re working all the time? Is life easier when you don’t have family and friends?” His eyes were wide as he looked at me.

“I have friends. And family.”

“Oh, right.” Miles nodded. “Zeke.”

My brother’s name twisted around my heart. “And parents,” I said.

“Parents that wouldn’t have approved of me,” he said morosely.

I felt the old frustration building up, but it flew away in the wind as I remembered what had happened the last time I had fought with Miles. Mostly, it had been about him transferring away, but every frustration and wrong we had committed against each other had been brought up and flung like missiles. Instead, I said, “I can’t think of anyone who wouldn’t approve of you, Miles.”

His face softened into a goofy grin. “That’s sweet.”

I blushed. “It’s just the truth.”

He slumped against the bar. “That would be nice if it were. I can tell you one person who doesn’t approve of me—make that two: my dad and my mom.”

“Surely that’s not true,” I said, and I had a sudden memory of a similar argument with Zeke, about our mother and father. “What makes you think that?”

Miles leaned forward, suddenly intense. “Do you know how many cases I’ve been allowed to work on since returning home? Even just as a paralegal, researching? Zero. I’m a lawyer, Parker. A damn good one, and my dad won’t even deign to assign me research on the most basic case. And then my mother, she’s even worse. Just because she was more than content, no, she wanted to be a house omega, she sees it as a personal failure that I haven’t followed in her footsteps. And to top it all off, when they finally decide to pay some attention to my life, it’s to dictate who I should date and possibly marry. And he’s awful. Have I told you how awful, Parker? Old. Creepy. His eyes burn me like acid. I feel as if I’ve been stripped naked in front of him, and not in the good way. Would parents who actually cared about me choose someone like that?”

I pulled the bottle of wine back off the rack and opened it, pouring myself a glass. Miles looked hopeful, but smiled in acceptance when I refused to pour him one.

“You alphas don’t understand,” he said sleepily, his head drifting lower. “You don’t have to fight and scrap and claw for every shriveling shred of acceptance. You expect it to be given to you, and people ha-a-appily comply.” He yawned through the last words, and his head settled solidly on the bar.

Well. That was unexpected. We still had an hour before we needed to leave for Miles’s parents’ house, so I set my wineglass on the counter and circled around to pull Miles off the stool and into my arms. I quickly realized that wasn’t the best decision for my health and well-being. If just seeing Miles had been enough for me to throw away all my well-thought plans to get out of his way and let him live his life, holding him tempted me to contemplate crazier, more dangerous things. I briefly considered laying him on my couch, but it had been purchased for looks, not for comfort, so I turned down the hallway and laid him on top of my bed. He looked so innocent asleep. Like he didn’t know what pain was. How I wished that were true.

I indulged myself for just a moment, resting a hand against his firm jaw, and then I practically ran back to the kitchen where I was safe, and he was safe from me.